A Secret Past
by brbfindingemo
Summary: Harry stumbles upon a secret during a detention in the dungeons. Could this be the cause of the Potions Master's constant anger?


Disclaimer: I own nothing. J.K. Rowling is the creator of all that is amazing. I just make the plot.

With a sigh, Harry thrust open the heavy wooden door and slammed it shut behind him. He dreaded the feeling that he got as he descended into the dungeons, but today he felt it more than usual. Today, he was scheduled to serve detention in the potions classroom until just before curfew. He was instructed to meet Professor Snape in front of his office ten minutes after supper. Harry inwardly cursed, deciding that two-hour detention was an unfair punishment for spilling a slightly acidic potion on Draco Malfoy's belongings.

"It's not like the slime ball can't buy a new potions book. He's bloody ri-" his muttering was interrupted by an unnecessarily loud throat-clearing behind him. In his anger, Harry had missed his turn and walked into a large clearing in the dimly lit dungeons. He turned on his heel to see the glare of his potions professor. His arms were crossed, and his foot tapping in irritation.

"Late again Mister Potter. Five house points will be deducted from your house. This is your third and final warning. One more minute lost on detention time, and you will be in my classroom scrubbing cauldrons every evening for the rest of the school year." His voice was deep and considerably unnerving. To this, Harry voiced no reply, only returned the professor's ice-cold glare. Snape turned on his heel and strode towards the entrance to the classroom. "Today, you will be writing an essay for me about the importance of caution while transporting a corrosive liquid. No less than one and a half rolls of parchment. Sit down and begin."

Harry parked himself in an empty seat with excessive force. He pulled a quill and ink well from the pocket of his robes, setting them out on the tabletop. He uncorked the bottle of ink and dipped his quill in, mixing its contents. With a sigh, he raised his hand to attract the professor's attention. He looked up with an agitated glare and rolled his eyes.

"What is it Potter?"

"I haven't brought anything to write on." With a jerk, Snape opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out two sheets of parchment. He threw them across the gap to Harry's outstretched hand. With a grunt, he resumed his work. Harry picked up his quill and began to write. He used a large handwriting to take up as much space as possible with the least amount of thought.

x x x x x

Harry was about a quarter into the second page of his writing when he reached the bottom of his ink well. He looked up to Snape's desk, hoping to borrow some from him. Glass was clinking in the storeroom, so he got up from his seat to ask. He took pleasure in bothering his professor, thinking of it as payback for all of the times he had been publicly humiliated because of a less-than-perfect potion or a misspoken answer.

"Professor? I ran out of ink. Do you have some that I could use?" His innocent voice disguised all signs of intentional annoyance.

"Top drawer on the right Potter." He turned and went back to Snape's desk. He sat in the hard plain chair and spun once before getting the ink. When he closed the drawer, he noticed a glimmer of light coming from the one underneath, which was slightly ajar. He looked around for movement, but Snape was still taking inventory. He stuck his finger in the drawer, pulling it open a bit more.

He saw a small gold book, seemingly an album of some sort. He turned it over to see a photograph of a small boy with Snape's hair and nose. Everything else about him however, was completely different. He had a huge smile plastered across his face and his eyes were alive with laughter. He was sitting in a tree, kicking his bare feet over a leafy green bush.

"Reducio," Harry murmured and put the book in his pocket for later examination. He got up and went back to his desk, with a renewed motivation to finish his essay early.

x x x x x

At eight thirty, he stood up a final time, putting his quill in his pocket with Snape's album. He returned the ink to the top drawer and ran over to the door to the Potions storeroom.

"Professor, I'm finished." He wondered if his voice sounded too cheerful. He did not want Snape to get any suspicion as to what was going on. He added a quick sigh and continued, "Can I go now? I have a lot of homework to do. I have to write another essay due in _your_ class tomorrow morning."

"It is at least one and a half rolls?" Snape didn't take his eyes off of his list once. He was busy checking for thieveries and misplacement of valuable potions ingredients.

"Yes."

"Then you may go. Leave the essay on my desk. And return the ink."

"Thank you, _sir_." He hurried out of the classroom and ran up the stairs two at a time. He burst through the door to the staircases and took the most direct root to the seventh floor, carefully avoiding moving flights. He almost tripped on another student, stopping to tie his shoe on the sixth landing. He swerved around him, knocking his books all over the floor.


End file.
